The Guilty
by Avernian
Summary: She was as graceful in death as she was in life; her arms drifted besides her body as if caught in an invisible beat, her long curling locks framing her sinking face. She looks like a goddess. Short Onshot


**The Guilty**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.**

I'm dreaming about that night again. Dreaming of her small hand, soft against my scar, of the battle I know is to follow, the smell of his burnt flesh, and of the pain that fills her face when she looks down on the murder that I helped my sister commit. But this time something is different. We're in the caverns underneath Ba Sing Sa, trapped like two animals, two enemies stuck in a pitch black cage. The turquoise gems jetting out of the rock walls are glowing; the only light. The light they shone reflected off her mocha skin, shining in crisscrossing aqua layers. Her blue eyes became drowning pools from the stolen essence. I feel as if I am about to die gazing into those pools, so unlike my own. She's standing in front of me, only a foot away, close enough that I can feel the warmth from her body. Her hand is cool on my face and I dream I can feel that coolness on my scar too. I hear her offer to heal my scar; hear her accept me into their group. I want to say yes, but there is something tearing at my soul, a screaming reluctance. Rage, like nothing I've ever felt before, consumes me in a dizzying wave and I want to hurt her. There is no logic; no warning, fleeting emotion to arrive at this point, just an instant urge to wrap my calloused fingers around her throat and squeeze until those drowning blue pools dried to nothing.

Fear flashes through those tormenting eyes, then resolves to panic, as my hands envelope her slender throat. She doesn't try to stop me. I feel my thumbs digging into the soft flesh underneath her chin. Her breathing is becoming ragged; tears are streaming down her checks. She's still so beautiful. Her lips are gasping around the remaining air and I force my lips unto them. I kiss her with force and prevent her from hanging onto that thin thread between this world and the Spirit world. She tastes so sweet even in death's cold embrace. The light her eyes had taken from the gems is leaking back to its owners; they seemed to be glowing brighter and brighter, mocking her. I pulled back enough to look into her lifeless eyes and breathed the faintest of promises against her cold lips, one word that held all the pain, confusion, triumph, and amazement I felt in this moment, "Katara."

I let go of her throat and her body is sinking, not onto the ground, but into it. The once solid floor of the cave gave way to a black liquid surface, one that only I could stand on. She was as graceful in death as she was in life; her arms drifted besides her body as if caught in an invisible beat, her long curling locks framing her sinking face. She looks like a goddess. My stomach sinks; what have I done. I've killed such an innocent creature. My heart pounds blood in my ears as I fall to my knees grabbing desperately into the water, reaching for my sin against this world, but she's descending too fast and my arms can't seem to break the surface which would allow me to plunge into the darkness after her. I can't see her anymore and just as the rage overtook my body only moments before, panic replaces it. She's gone; I've killed her. I'll never get to look into those drowning eyes again, to feel her skin pressed against mine, or hear her soothing voice. A primal scream rips from my lips, still wet with her sweet taste. The screams continue to tear from my throat until it becomes raw; I let the horror of my deed engulf me until my brain pulses with a desire to die. I cough blood onto the black grave and the red substance sways back and forth in the wake of her departure. The light red against the blackness intrigues me, as I stare into it. Everything is fading; I'm falling away…

I woke up with sweat dripping down my face, my sleeping tunic clinging to my chest, which was pounding with the large intakes of breaths I was trying to force into my body. The light silk sheets around me felt like a scolding weight as I tear them off my body in an attempt to get away from my retched bed. I was dreaming about that damned water peasant again. Agni, curse these vile dreams that have been tormenting me for weeks. I paced along the front of my bed, the metal cool against my bare feet, fuming as the dream flashes before my eyes. I can still feel her hand on my face as if she had just touched me; my hands shook with the recalled feeling of forcing the air from her warm body, and regardless if it were just a dream, I could still taste her kiss, poisoning my lips. I scream as I feel my inner fire boiling inside me.

Why now, after succeeding in gaining back everything I lost five years ago, am I plagued with guilt? And especially guilt over those children! The Avatar is dead, my father has accepted me back into the family, and I'm about to be made into the Fire Lord for Agni's sake! I have everything I've ever wanted and more. But I'm still diseased with guilt: guilt over my betrayal to Uncle Iroh, yet anger over his choice to forsake me, guilt over the Avatar's death, an infectious child threatening the Fire Nation and my father, guilt over that blundering buffoon who is racked with the delusion that he is some great hunter, guilt in informing my father that there was even the slightest chance that the Avatar could be revived by that haunting figure from my dreams, guilt of participating in the decision to send an assassin after the boy's body and the water witch.

I've tried to rid myself of this blasted guilt, but I can't escape it. I roughly sink unto the plush red velvet couch parallel to the bed on the right-hand side, thrusting my face in my hands and gripping my shaggy black locks with a force that I'd hope would rid the guilt and her soft face from my mind. The pain didn't distract me. The questions that have been scrapping inside my head since I arrived back at the palace reared their ugly heads. What would happen when the assassin finally caught up to them, was the Avatar still alive, had the peasant's magic water worked, if he were still alive would the assassin be able to defeat the Airbender, what would my father do with the body…what would he do with Katara?

Agni knows I wanted the Avatar dead, without his death I would never have achieved my goals, but I never wanted to endanger anyone else. I would have done whatever was necessary to get back home, but I didn't think or want other people to die. Naïve, I bitterly thought. This was war, of course innocents would have to be sacrificed, but I never wanted her to be one of those innocents. AGNI! Why do I even care about a water tribe peasant form across the world? Through my frustration, a voice I knew to be me as well, clearly rang out, 'It's because she showed you forgiveness and acceptance and you threw it back at her, then you helped kill her friend, and now you've allowed your father to send an assassin after her and the Avatar's body. If he doesn't bring her back dead, then he will bring her back to be tortured, and then executed. That's where your guilt stems from, this truth.' I groan deep in my throat, as this thought pours through me. No, I won't let this consume me. Their whole group is enemies of the Fire Nation, her included; every Fire Nation citizen knows that the only honorable solution to enemies who threaten this nation's future is death. My father is right in his decision, the Avatar's body and that filthy brat must be found to insure that there is no one to stop this nation from spreading its good fortunes to the people who inhabit this world. Innocents will be lost, but the end _will_ justify the means.

I stood with resolution. I will not let these petty emotions governor my thoughts any longer. Pretty soon the assassin will be back baring the child's body and the prisoner, who will receive a quick execution and then I will no longer be shadowed by this guilt. These actions are required to build a strong nation, a lesson I will have to learn to swallow in its entirety, if I am to become an honorable and respected leader. With what I thought was peace of mind, I settled back into bed and willed myself not to dream, but as I am drifting off into that other world, my mind is devoured with images of a blood stained campsite, the blood crisp on the gentle night breeze. Bodies are littered across the forest floor, and one lone dark figure sits on the chest of a smaller frame, thrusting a regal knife deep into their victim's chest cavity, while a shrill voice pierces the bitter night, "Zuko, NO!"


End file.
